Colby Justice. Debra Webb
risk of speaking directly into her ear, no matter how softly, was one he’d had no choice but to take. The flow of air helped camouflage any sound, but that wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes. Still, being caught on a thermal scan was by far the more likely and dangerous scenario, since it would alert the enemy not only to their presence but also their precise location.
When she hesitated, he added, “There’s tape in my pack.”
Alexander nodded, then dragged his backpack to her. She sifted through the items inside, dredging up the special tape needed to seal the rip in the shielding suit. She located the injury and quickly applied layer after layer of tape over the wound. The pressure she applied sent pain shooting down his leg and up his side. Just his luck to have something as stupid as this happen right off the bat.
He’d ignored a hell of a lot worse than this. All he had to do was focus on the goal.
When Alexander had moved up alongside Ben, Ian reported via the communications link, “The blip has disappeared.”
They were in the clear…for now.
“How bad is it?” Alexander asked, her face close to Ben’s ear, her voice scarcely audible above the drone of airflow.
He wanted to shake her for speaking when, in his opinion, it wasn’t absolutely necessary. He would survive. Truth was, the injury stung like hell. He could feel it continuing to ooze blood inside the suit. Since he couldn’t see it, he wasn’t sure just how bad it was. He shrugged and, though she might not be able to see the movement very well, they lay against each other so she’d definitely felt it. He turned his face toward the dark tunnel ahead and jerked his head in that direction.
Time to move.
She hesitated but only for a second.
Even in that slight hesitation he felt the fear radiating off her in waves. That worried him…or maybe it was just the idea that her body was practically wrapped around his and she was trembling.
The forward movement along the horizontal portion of the route provided the needed time to rest his tense muscles. And allowed for some physical distance from his new partner. A few more feet and the straight-up climb would begin again. She would go first with a boost from him, then she would provide the needed hoist for him to achieve that same goal.
Three more floors to go.
Ignore the burn…ignore the pain.
There was no way he could stop for anything other than a life-threatening injury. No turning back. The lives of those inside depended upon the success of this mission. Having the police rush in would no doubt result in casualties. This had to be achieved covertly and quickly.
Ben focused on covering the distance directly in front of him. Alexander’s soft breathing and her soundless forward movement helped keep his mind off the pain. Mostly he stared at her shapely legs and rear end. What could he say? They were right in front of him. His eyes had adjusted to the degree possible in the near absence of light and maybe he couldn’t actually say that he could see her form, but he’d gotten a good look before they’d climbed into this dark hole. His memory and too vivid imagination were providing a stream of sweet details. The woman was all sleek curves and lean lines.
Just a little farther and they would be at the second floor.
“Two enemy personnel are headed down the eastern stairwell.”
Ian’s warning in their earpieces caused both Ben and Alexander to freeze.
The enemy was headed down. If they’d seen that blip of heat on a thermal scanner.
They would know they had company.
They would know he and Alexander were in the building.
Temporary Command Center, 9:40 a.m.
Jim Colby held his breath as the two glowing forms on the scanner moved swiftly down the stairwell to the third floor…then the second.
“Damn it,” he growled. “They must have seen the heat trace.” Which could only mean that the enemy had a thermal scanner, as well.
“Don’t move, Steele,” Ian ordered.
Jim glared at him. “What the hell are you doing? They have to get out of there.” As Victoria’s son, Jim had thought he’d made himself clear twenty-four hours ago. He was in charge.
“Anything they do now,” Ian Michaels said, in that too-calm voice, “could result in their being captured. Until we’re absolutely certain their presence has been detected making a move that will certainly announce their presence would be a mistake.”
Neither Simon Ruhl nor Lucas Camp said a word, their silence shouting loudly and clearly that they were with Ian on this one.
Jim planted his hands on his hips and turned away from the screen tracking the movements of the enemy…growing closer and closer to the only hope for the rescue of Victoria. Jim’s gaze landed on Leland Rockford. Rocky was the only other member of his team here. He, too, kept quiet.
Maybe this was too close for Jim. Maybe he couldn’t keep emotion out of the scenario. God knows he’d never had that problem before.
Fear tightened in his throat. He’d allowed that thin line to stand too long. He had permitted Victoria, his mother, to give far more than he ever allowed himself to grant. Last year’s attempt on his daughter had set off long-buried emotional ripples deep inside him. Those ripples were still evoking changes in him—changes he wasn’t fully able to control.
Changes he should have allowed long ago.
“We’ve got company at the front entrance,” Ted Tallant called out from his position at the window. “White, nondescript panel van. Tinted windows, no way to tell how many occupants.”
Jim moved to the window, as did the others, except for Rocky, to observe the arrival of the van. Two men, dressed completely in black including ski masks. The two were likely part of the team Jim had seen when he’d attempted to bargain for the release of his mother.
“I believe it’s safe to assume that those are the two from the stairwell.”
“That could mean they don’t have a thermal scanner or didn’t catch the blip we did.” Jim’s knees threatened to buckle with relief. If Steele and Alexander were caught… Jim’s mother would likely be the first victim of retaliation.
Jim could not let that happen.
He should have gone in himself.
But he did not possess the lean body frame necessary for the infiltration.
Guilt and frustration gnawed at him.
Ian relayed the update to Steele and Alexander.
All in the room relaxed marginally.
They were still in the clear.
For now.
At the front entrance of the building across the street, two men from the van handed off rectangular boxes to the two men in black. Six boxes total. The boxes were stacked in the lobby by the members of the enemy’s team, then the van drove away and the entry doors to the building were locked once more.
“More case files,” Tallant explained as he peered through his binoculars to read whatever lettering was stamped on the boxes.
“Probably the files on the Reginald Clark case,” Lucas surmised. “Or the personal ones belonging to Gordon. Those disappeared from the county’s official storage facility, as we know.”
Less than twenty-four hours ago, Slade Convoy, posing as an official courier for Cook County, had picked up six boxes of files from former District Attorney Gordon’s personal residence and transported them to the county storage